Nailo Amaliir a Biography
by Peter Dodge
Summary: The exploits of Nailo Amaliir as she rises to her posistion as the Lady Magistrate of the Iron Wolves. Warning: Violence


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"Who are you?" asked her dark-skinned rescuer.  
  
"I ... " she winced at the pain speaking brought to the wound at her chest "I am called Nailo ... " a quick breath, "Nailo Amaliir ... by my friends" another breath, " and worse, ... by others" After she got used to it, the pain wasn't that bad.  
  
"I see. More importantly is..." His eyes searched hers for the answer to the question he was going to ask, "What are you?"  
  
"I... I..." The words hung in the air as Nailo spoke them. She felt her eyes becoming teary as the bitter revelation came to her: should she tell her rescuer what she was, surely he would leave her behind. "I..." She rallied what courage she had to answer this most difficult of questions, knowing to refuse him an answer would be worse.  
  
Nailo didn't stay in the room long enough to notice her rescuer's shocked look.  
  
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Born with no mother or father to take care of her, the tiefling Nailo Amaliir had a rough childhood. She was found in her teens by a cleric of Torm and raised by her to be an exemplar of their beliefs. Doubted by many other faithful of the order, Nailo nonetheless persevered. She struggled but became inducted into the paladins of the order.  
  
She wandered her homelands, the Sword Coast North, for a great deal of time, accumulating experience in the ways of war and became famous (or infamous if you prefer) for slaying the white dracolich Draxxtisulam during a successful bid to weaken the Cult of the Dragon's hold on the region's borders. She could have lead a very comfortable life after taking the dragon's hoard, but instead she adventured on, undaunted.  
  
In a search for those like her, the young Tiefling traveled past the regions boundaries to Hellgate Keep, where she heard that other tieflings lived. She did indeed find others of her kind, a whole civilization of sun elf tieflings. They were angered by her presence and captured her. Looking for a way to dispose of her, they decided to sacrifice her to their demon gods. They succeeded in killing her, and this would have been the end of her story if not for the intervention of an unlikely hero.  
  
The drow elf renegade Gerdion Cianthiae was himself adventuring through the region when he came across the frenzied gathering of tieflings. After sizing up the situation from a treetop vantage point, he saw the object of their frenzy, a nearly naked female wood elf, dagger in her chest. She was futilely struggling against her bounds, her blackish (that bit tipped off Gerdion that she wasn't full-elf) lifeblood trickling down her body from the wound. Gerdion acted quickly, springing into the midst of the tieflings, his two longswords, Justicar (the mortal version of Tyr's chosen weapon, and another story altogether) and Planebrand, dancing amidst the furious attacks of the tieflings. In the middle of his combat however, he heard a final, mournful and bloodcurdling scream from the platform, and he knew that Nailo had died. Pulling on his dark elven instincts and power, he dropped a magical darkness upon them, and slipped into a battle frenzy that very few ever witnessed and lived. Like he whom Gerdion looked up to, the famous drow renegade Drizzt, Gerdion weaved from foe to foe, with a calm and not at-all concerned approach, slaying all who would dare meet him in combat. He was left with many grievous wounds, but he survived and was better for it.  
  
After the dusts of combat had settled, Gerdion traveled over to the sacrificial platform, looking to the broken figure of Nailo tied to its rune-etched surface. He saw nothing that looked out of place for a wood elf, except for the blackish blood. But when he looked to her eyes - they were a deep blood red - he realized that this one too was a tiefling. He was left in a crisis of conscience - should he risk having he resurrected if she too could be just as evil as those that killed her? Trusting his initial feelings that she was not evil like most of her kin, Gerdion removed the curved black dagger and used it to cut her bonds. Taking her battered form to the nearest temple, he used all his gold at hand to have her resurrected. Seeing her rescuer for the first time, she vowed to her dark-skinned champion that she would repay him. Telling her that no payment was necessary, he rested in the temple for three weeks, recovering from his wounds. She tended to her rescuer; even though she had little than the robe the temple had given her. They would have rather she left, but seeing her dedication to the drow that was a common sight in the temple, as he served the temple's god Tyr, they gave her a robe, as her running around in what bloodstained little her tiefling assailants had left her was slightly inappropriate for the temple.  
  
When he recovered his strength sufficiently, Gerdion talked with his newly devoted companion. He asked her about her heritage, telling her he had seen her red eyes (though he noted that they were brown now) and black blood. Divulging her true heritage was difficult to her, even if she were to tell her rescuer. She evaded the question for a while, but eventually gave in, conceding her tiefling heritage. Leaving with teary eyes, thinking herself lost from the heart of he who saved her life, she retreated to the room the clerics of the temple had given her, sobbing and praying to her god, hoping that she could remain loyal to her rescuer without being an unwanted burden to him.  
  
Meanwhile Gerdion was left with his own thoughts. He was shocked to learn that she was a tiefling. Shocked, but not surprised. What intrigued him was both the emotion he saw in her when she left, or more accurately how sad she seemed, and he was even more intrigued that she had been betrayed by her own people. He certainly didn't want to abandon her knowing this - they had a common feature, they were both outcasts from their people. Gerdion went to her room to find a sobbing and broken looking form, but when Gerdion crouched down to look at her he found it was a mixture of sadness and pain, the wound the dagger left in her chest was burning with some sort of foul hellfire. He brought her to the clerics, and she continued her soundless sobbing as they used her healing magic. She went on long after the wound was healed, sad and sure that her rescuer, to which she knew not even a name, would leave her behind. He took care of her as well as she did him when he was recovering, and her spirits steadily became lighter as she realized this wouldn't be the case.  
  
When she recovered, the two thanked the clerics who had taken such good care of them, and set out adventuring again. Together they performed great acts, and the greatest of the exploits is one that the bards sing of in their songs. They infiltrated the magocratic nation of Thay under magic disguise provided by Gerdion's long-time friend and immensely powerful mage Chahiero Sardorn, and they fulfilled a quest that the elder mage had given them. They traveled to the residence of the blood magus Trenn Stallmine, who was attempting to devise a new form of undead that could take advantage of the blood magus' power. They killed him mostly due to Nailo's effort to use her healing to keep them at top health. Afterwards, they revealed their identity and exploits to the people of Thay, and warned them that their actions are watched by those far more powerful than their zulkirs. They then disappeared by a mysterious blue gate that Chahiero had summoned for them, and left the people of Thay both frightened and enraged.  
  
Gerdion decided after that event that he should find some organization of good where he would be protected and where he could further the goals of good. Nailo followed him as he did soul-searching among good organizations. He worked with the Harpers for a while, where Nailo was surprised to learn the Gerdion had been an apprentice of Elminster and the two knew each other well, and she was downright stunned when she learned that the two were friends. Gerdion had disagreements with the high Harpers though; he did not want to further the cause of good by political manipulation of subtle assassination, which he saw as the tools of evil. Some of the high Harpers agreed with him, as did his friend Elminster. Though Elminster still favoured subtlety, he agreed that the political manipulations could very easily be seen as a tool of darkness. Gerdion eventually left, and Nailo did too, though she was sad to leave some of the friends she had made among the Harpers.  
  
They eventually decided that they should form their own organization of good, and while Gerdion lobbied the powerful adventurers he knew did not already belong to such an organization to join, Nailo went to her order and told them that they were founding, and she beseeched their support. Using her persuasiveness, she won the support of the majority of the clerics. They pooled funds with those Nailo had left and the two had gained on their adventures to have constructed a great, twenty-floor keep that would guard one of the northern trade routes to Waterdeep. And so was born the Iron Wolves.  
  
Nailo trained with the warriors that Gerdion had recruited, and he and the other adventurers that had formed the Lords Magistrate, the ruling council, were impressed with her tenacity and dedication. They put her among their ranks, and she was honoured by their actions. She remains today the Lady Magistrate of their religious affairs.  
  
Quickly becoming known as a wise if strange head of the Iron Wolves, Nailo earned the rue enmity of her tiefling kin at Hellgate keep. Deciding that the time had come to strike, the survivors of Gerdion's rescue there raised a great force of their demon kin; they marched on the Iron Wolf keep. What these assailants had not accounted for in their plans was the resourcefulness of both Nailo and he powerful allies in the ranks of the Lords Magistrate.  
  
Nailo rode into combat on the back of the great white warhorse Quickmane who had answered her call when she sought a Paladin's warhorse. Quickmane rushed the ranks of the demon army, easily trampling some of the lesser fell creatures under its charge. Nailo made quick work of those that rose to surround her with her bastard sword, a Holy Avenger. Quickly glancing across the battlefield, she saw that the same was true of those around the other Lords Magistrate. Gerdion had a nearly careless attitude, weaving past all sorts of foul weapons' blows as if he predicted every slash, bash, and stab. Nailo looked over to another corner of the battlefield, looking for her dwarven friend among the Magistrate. She saw Kierna Bladebite, her friend; with the head of her axe heading towards the kneecap of a knight wearing spiked black plate armor. She seemed bloody, but it certainly was not her own blood. Nailo brought her attention back to the task at hand, and she made another deadly arc with her Holy Avenger, connecting with a solid crack with some gibbering, orc-like creature's skull. This seemed to drive the nearby creatures into blood frenzy, and they attacked her blindly. Her great warhorse bashed in a couple of creatures with its great hooves. Another couple met with a deadly swing of her sword. The others, seeing the hopelessness of their actions, routed, but in the centre of the fleeing forces stood a single, monstrous demon, a pit fiend from the foulest depths of the burning Hells. She met it with a stern gaze, and it met it with her gaze with its own deep, evil gaze, and one that reeked of chaos. She gripped the leather reins of Quickmane harder, making her knuckles white. This was going to be difficult.  
  
The fell creature never reached Nailo when it wanted to, for the appearance of this beast lent courage to the hearts of the creatures around it. Enraged, the demon uttered a few words of power and the two were whisked away to some alternate realm. Nailo hazarded a quick glance around. All of the scenery seemed unsubstantial. She met the gaze of the demon, and as she did so she felt the wound in her chest burn. Girding herself for death, she shifted her Holy Avenger to her left hand, intending to stave off her fate. In a flash of knowledge she thought back to the texts she had read when she was training. She head read of this demon, and she knew it's true name. A wicked grin flashed on her face. If she was going to die, she decided, she was going to die a heroic and defiant death. The demon grinned itself.  
  
"So, the demon-child has some fire in her after all."  
  
Silently shocked but not daunted, Nailo fired back, saying "Not that you have ever seen any, creature of the pits."  
  
Chuckling in some dark glee, the creature gave no reply, instead sizing Nailo up. She wore a while platemail and had a Holy Avenger in her hand. Her items alone made her a formidable foe, but not one the pit fiend would have found difficult to fall in the battlefield. What made him curios were the powerful emanations of magic he sensed from the other blade at the tiefling's side. A backup weapon of some power he thought, and arrogantly he discredited its power.  
  
Breaking the silence and wearing an ever-growing roguish grin, Nailo said, "You are quick to evaluate me Fearenor, but you underestimate me."  
  
The demon, caught aback by the tiefling using it's proper name, fell into a rage and charged at her. Using its rage to her advantage, Nailo tumbled between its huge legs, gashing its kneecap with the Holy Avenger. The demon howled in fury, swiping at her with its terribly sharp claws. Rolling with the blow, Nailo aimed another slash at the same kneecap and drove the Holy Avenger deep into the sinew of the fell demon. Enraged and furious, the demon hurled Nailo across the wispy expanses of their retreat with another swipe of its claws. Battered but not finished, Nailo rose, wiping some of her blood from her face. The demon didn't even get to notice her eyes turning deep blood red before she drew the second sword and charged at him in her own fury. She caught the creature again aback as the two swords slashed against its hide. The demon had underestimated the second blade, as it's mystic edge slashed through its thick hide like a hot knife through butter. The demon was far from defeated and it picked Nailo up from the ground in its massive hand, with her struggling futilely against his superior strength.  
  
(to be continued)  
  
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Biography by Peter Dodge 


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